Love Me Not
by ChasingADyingSun
Summary: Drabble from a universe where Robert was married before meeting Rosalind and she finds his wedding band.


Robert wondered, dejectedly, if there existed another universe in which he and Rosalind were together in bed right now. He allowed himself some peaceful respite in that thought as he decided that was very much true. He curled around the couch cushion a little tighter with his suit jacket slung over his side as his only blanket. In their many years together the only linens they had were the ones on their bed. And he wouldn't dare take those. Not that the bed was currently occupied, as Rosalind had stormed out of the house earlier, but he wanted to keep the bed open for her. It was hers after all. His back could bear the couch for a while. It would be better than the streets after all.

In this moment, he figured, she deserved it more than he did. Robert raised his large hand and uncurled his fingers slightly to look over the plain gold band that indented his palm. He wanted to blame the object, its reflective surface showing a warped image of him. He wanted to cast it into the fire for all it's done in some hope that such a passionate gesture would woo Rosalind into returning. But she wasn't stupid. She wasn't like a typical woman. She wasn't like his _wife_.

The word left a vile taste in his mind. It wasn't as if he hated the woman, but it was very much an arranged relationship. She did not have the qualities to make his heart constrict. She did not have the ability to keep up with him; she was to be taken care of. And Robert didn't want to be a grown woman's sitter.

But the ring, it represented an oath that had remained. Even when everything around it, Robert included, had changed.

The doorknob rattled and the door opened, Robert's back was to the door but he knew who it was. He had left the door unlocked for her. Rosalind made her way up the stairs in a flurry of red hair and clenched teeth. Robert shut his eyes tightly, he wanted to soothe her. He wanted to make it better but there was just nothing he could do. He could not get her flowers to distract her; he could not sing sonnets from the rooftop to flatter her. He could not impress her. For how does one impress a woman who tears apart time at a whim?

The door to their room shut softly and Robert's eyes slowly opened, greeted with the back of the couch and the cushion's corner digging into his gut. He ignored the discomfort and clutched the cushion (which may or may not have been showered in a bit of Rosalind's perfume while she was out) closer until the discomfort was almost too much.

All was quiet again, and Robert slowly allowed his mind to filter out all pleasantries to mull over the other universe. Imagining, quite pathetically, if his other self was taking the warmth of another body for granted. The clock ticked on, Robert deaf to it as the moon seeped through the slit in the curtains to paint strips of light blue across the arm of the couch. He didn't hear the slight whine of hinges as the master bedroom door opened, nor did he hear the pattering of tiny feet across wood floors as Rosalind made her way down the simple staircase. Rosalind held the hem of her nightgown in hand as she descended down a few stairs. She paused part way down, hands letting fabric go to wrap around the banister as she looked over Robert's fetal form.

"Come to bed Robert." The man stood deathly still for a moment, slowly coming into focus and turning over under the jacket. "Pardon?" His jaw must have gone slack for she hastily amended her statement. "Come to bed. I have grown too accustomed to the warmth of another at my back." She straightened up and tossed her hair behind her thin shoulders. Robert scarcely believed the request as he tossed the jacket off himself and got up to follow Rosalind's form back to their room.

There were no words; Rosalind moved into the restroom to comb her hair, giving Robert time to change from his wrinkled suit and into his more modest sleep clothes. He usually forgoes the heavy shirt but this hardly felt like the time for immodesty. The fibers scratch the back of his neck as he tries to decide if he should just hop into bed. What if it offends her for him to be so casual? His eyes dart to the open restroom door before he hears a soft voice. "Well go on then. It's your bed as much as it is mine."

Somehow those words being him no comfort. And he stiffly moves to his side of the bed and pulls back the sheets to slip in. Does he face away from her side or not? The sheer complexity of what used to be such an enjoyable activity made his mind reel silently as he settled on away. After a short while she joined him, not looking to him as she settled into her own side of the bed and she flicked off the lights with a quick click.

She seemed comfortable, Robert steals a glance behind her and her posture is relaxed and the light sheer drapes over her curves elegantly.

He'd groan if it wasn't so damn silent.

"She did invite me up. She missed my warmth…" Robert thinks with a softening face as he feels flattered by the special privilege he was always afforded. His brows knit together in determination as he turns over slowly. She doesn't react. She's not one to fall asleep easily but maybe the stress of today exhausted her?

Robert reaches out a palm and brushes her spine with his fingers and the reaction is not quick, but absolute. She pulls away from him. She moves away from Robert and bunches sheet behind her to create a shield between them.

And with the weak light of the moon shining through the curtains onto a full length mirror Robert can see a reflection of Rosalind frowning.

Disgust weighs heavy in his gut as he turns back over and wishes he brought the couch cushion with him.


End file.
